A Beginner's Mind

I read this ad flashing on my facebook page several days ago. This harmless jibe on one of the Navgraha made a deep impression on me. I remember the good old days of satyanarayan puja. The dexterity with which Punditji, a very interesting character, used to lay down the kaccha chaawal(uncooked rice), different types of dal , haldi , sindoor and other paraphernalia to prepare for the puja. The puja was usually conducted in my household on the special occasion of me successfully clearing the exams. Mom prayed for divine intervention, because she was always unsure whether I would make it to the next year or not. So, I was the center of attraction in these events and willfully participated in these cosmic endeavors. What I liked most about the puja was Punditji. Whenever I saw his wrinkled face, the chandan fragrance, flawless Hindi and humorous attitude - I wanted my teachers to be more like him. Unlike other pundits, even his elder brother (a more famous and successful pundi

I read this story a long time ago under "Speaking tree" in Times of India. Though I am still unsure about my feelings for God but I still remember the euphoria which accompanied this story. It still gives me the same joy it did back when I first read it. I hope that you feel the same:   Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty." Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull." Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my b

One-day Life asked me "Who are you?"   I answered I am the relative, the sum of all parts, the remainder of a failed division, an echo of a desire unfulfilled, an unanswered prayer; And one day Life asked me," Where do you come from?" I laughed at the absurdity of the question, a silent mockery of humanity, a sarcasm on the infinity of existence, what a choice of words! And one day Life asked "What do you do"? I said," I exist. I assemble the parts to make a puzzle, I choose the moment & forget eternity, I choose the body & forget the invisible." And one day Life asked me, "Where are you going'? I said everywhere; breathing fire, a tireless explorer, expecting these lines to show me the way, its dark everywhere, but I ain't afraid. And one day Life asked me "Do you know me"? I was reminded of countless travelers who tread this path, I recounted their stories, I felt their agonies,

God Damn it! The Invisible hand has fucked me again! Jeff Merrion I started learning guitar on 15 th October 2008. I didn't search as much as real enthusiasts do and joined the class very near to my house. 2 minutes walk easy breezy. I did this because the teacher was good and I saw kids playing awesome music! It was a little embarrassing at first, when your colleagues are a quarter your age and more evolved than you but I liked it that way. Mostly because I had the opportunity to learn from the very basics and the brochure said "Don't learn to play instruments. Learn music". I asked myself several questions before joining in. Why do I want to learn guitar? Is it to impress people and sharpen the ego? The answer was NO. Is it to bring a change in lifestyle, do something you've never done before? Probably YES. But the real reason was I like music. I had written some songs/poems which were desperately seeking chords as life partners. I always believed that peo

Wow it was such a deep sleep, I forgot about the needy and the weak. Now I know that situations make people change, root is a flower that disdains fame; We are living in soap bubbles, decorating our houses. Now I know that thieves steal to pay for something else, The story starts with but ain't just about kicks, you can't keep crying for that which no longer exists , while the present is surrounded in a mist; Sometimes the best ain't good enough. Now I know that I am gargling religion and drowning in hypocrisy, Am taught that striking at right moment is maturity, Am stuck in a traffic of responsibility, here love ain't meeting of souls but a control game; Am I becoming shock proof? Now I know that diamonds are forever but beauty ain't; Lies are screaming but the truth is so faint, that violence is becoming a blame game; Will the real mahatma please stand up? Now I know that house and home are not the same, the world has tu

I was working late and had just stepped out of my office on a Friday. It was a windy night and I could smell the distant rain catching up with me. I waved my hand for an auto and a young Muslim guy with big beard and skull cap stopped. As the ride proceeded and I convinced him that route no.1 was the shortest instead of the one, which he was taking; I made an important discovery that was the start of a very interesting evening. I found out that he was generous with words. The unending traffic jam was bugging the hell out of both of us and the pleasant weather was washing away the weariness of the day. He said, "Sir Bangalore has changed a lot. It wasn't like this some years back. We hardly ever went beyond Koramangala. We used to finish our work by 9pm and then have a sound sleep back home. We used to get the desired money and save time too. These days it is only by 12 that our work gets over, money is stiff too due to competition, and dinner has shifted post 12. Most of